


Wabi Sabi

by Michael_McGruder



Series: IX [4]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_McGruder/pseuds/Michael_McGruder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kochanski has been lost in a freak accident while Rimmer and Lister's relationship is crumbling around them. With Red Dwarf adrift and everything falling apart, the crew are forced to relearn what home and family mean to them.</p>
<p>AN: The non-con tag is included, as a character experiences nightmares containing those themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tameshiwari

It was a particularly ugly fight that had been brewing for weeks, or arguably longer. Things had been said that couldn’t be taken back. They had both known each other long enough to know where it really hurt, and were skilled enough in verbal combat to avoid cutting too deep. It had always been a gentleman’s war.

It began with the two of them feeling independently ratty for their own reasons. Most of the time their saving grace was the fact that their moods usually counterbalanced each other. Occasionally, however, their dark moods eclipsed, concluding with screaming, throbbing veins, and flying spittle.

The difference this time around was that each of them felt like they had nothing to lose anymore.

“You know what your problem is, Rimmer? You’re just a real arsehole. It’s that simple.”

There had only been two other times in all the years Rimmer had known Lister that he’d called him an arsehole. It rang so differently from being called a smeghead, even when being called a smeghead in anger. There was none of the exasperated affection, or schoolyard teasing in it. Just bitter animosity. Today it hit Rimmer in a bad way and he found himself shouting again.

“At least I’m not sleeping with my own mother!” Rimmer regretted it as soon as he said it, but he couldn’t back down now. Lister was surprised. Truly astonished. Being thrown that curveball, he reacted with careless venom.

“You shouldn’t bother. Alphabetti Spaghetti aside, she’s a lousy lay!” Lister hadn’t actually slept with the polymorph reincarnated as Maggie Rimmer, but his psyche damaged brain enjoyed winding the hologram up about it at the time. Enough so to provoke an attack of opportunity by the polymorph.

Somehow the mere mention of the cheap canned pasta was more enraging to Rimmer than his own mother describing Lister bending her over and taking her like a wild stallion. What was it with him and soup?

“Well-spoken from the poster boy of family values! The man whose given birth to and sired himself three times, and all three times managed to dump the kids off on someone else. You’re a deadbeat dad, mum, and a genetic cul-de-sac.”

Knowing that he had to leave himself in a box under a pool table, knowing that he had to allow himself to grow up thinking someone had left him there like unwanted trash had been hard. There wasn’t a day that Lister didn’t miss Jim and Bexley. He had to send them back to the universe they were conceived in to save their lives, and having that thrown in his face hurt so deeply that Lister felt the prickles of tears sting his eyes.

“Not that anyone would want to carry your little bastard, Mr. Gazpacho.”

And that was it. The nuke had been launched. The hot tension that had filled to room to the point of bursting was suddenly sucked out, leaving a subzero oxygenless void.

Rimmer’s lip trembled. He pointed the finger of his shaking hand at Lister as though to emphasize a retort he didn’t have. His face changed colour from flushed red to throbbing purple and fading into a dull, ashy green, like the lifecycle of a bruise.

Lister didn’t look away. His heated dark eyes held Rimmer’s bitter green ones, both of them letting the poison set in without blinking.

It was Rimmer who left first, storming off to his hideaway. It wasn’t long before Lister headed for the bar.

 

Kochanski had been hiding in the fallout shelter of her quarters, avoiding the inevitable fight, and avoiding Lister in general. They were in the waning phase of their mercurial relationship, which had contributed to Lister’s sour mood. Lately she’d been considering the idea that she and Lister were irreconcilably different.

With the possibility of tracking down her own dimension slipping from slim to none, she tried to make the best of the situation. She tried to forgive this Lister for not being her sensitive and sophisticated Dave. But some days were harder than others, and it seemed like the bad ones were adding up faster all the time.

She was also well aware that she wasn’t exactly the Kochanski of his dreams either. She could see it in every surprised or disappointed look Lister tried to hide from her. She’d seen him give that look to Rimmer in the Tank frequently.

Kochanski knew Lister was trying to accept her for who she was, just as she was trying to accept him. But they were both growing resentful of the comparisons, and growing tired of never quite measuring up. She was starting to understand how Rimmer felt all the time, a notion that disturbed her.

She couldn’t hear the specifics of the argument they were having, but it sounded inordinately nasty. She chewed on her lip for a minute and decided to let them cool down for an hour or so before venturing out to assess the damage.

 

Lister could get a lot of drinking done in an hour, and when Kochanski found him at the bar, he was soused. He had two modes of drunk, depending on the motivation for oblivion. “Fun Drunk,” as it turns out, was actually fun. Fun drunk meant an endless supply of lager, a traffic cone at the end of the night, and everyone having a damn good time.

Then there was “Nihilist Drunk,” which meant he was drinking to forget, whiskey cans littered everywhere, and no one was happy.

When Kochanski arrived at the Copacabana, there were a lot of empty whiskey cans and not a single traffic cone in sight. She tried to steel herself. It was deeply upsetting to see Lister this way. When her Dave was still alive, his alcoholism was one of the reasons she’d gone back to Tim. Dave had just about cleaned himself up when the crew was wiped out in the accident. Her Dave had learned a lot in his forced abstinence as a soft light hologram, and never touched the stuff when he’d acquired a hard light drive. To see all that reversed broke her heart.

She sat across from him at his table, picking the half empty can out of his hand. He glared at her, lighting a cigarette.

“I’m not exactly in the mood for a lecture now, _mother_.” The petulance he injected into the word mother surprised her. She silently counted to ten.

“I’m not here to lecture,” she said in a steady voice. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m pretty god damned smegging far from okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Why can’t he just be normal? Why can’t he be bothered by normal things? He’ll swallow the foulest, cruelest things you can say to him, but a bowl of soup will set him off.”

He lit a second cigarette with the first one and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. With an abruptness that startled Kochanski, Lister slammed his fist on the table.

“I told him I would never bring it up. It’s stupid, pointless agony, but I swore absolutely that I would never mention it ever. But he just has a way of jabbing every button, every nerve,” he hissed, poking his finger in the air for emphasis.

“Sometimes people just say petty things in an argument,” Kochanski said quietly.

“I should be stronger than that, stronger than him! I’m not the one who’s broken!” Kochanski didn’t meet his eye, but it didn’t matter. Her immediate thought was detected and Lister simmered. “Okay, so maybe I’m not Mr. Perfect David Lister Esq., with no hang ups at all, who never leaves wet towels on the floor or picks his ears clean with the can opener. So sue me. If you want anal retentive holograms, why don’t you go fuck Rimmer.”

The sharp clap of her hand across his face left him staring stupidly at her. This time she did meet his eyes, brimmed with angry tears.

“Shit, Krissy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…” but she wasn’t listening. She was out the door and he resisted kicking over the table. Why was he acting this way? This wasn’t him. He wasn’t mean or spiteful. He didn’t lash out at people who were trying to help him, people he loved.

Lister downed the last sips in his can, and laid his head on the table, letting dreamless unconsciousness hide him away from his turmoil.

 

Kochanski knocked on the door of the former captain’s quarters before letting herself in. Rimmer had long ago made the spacious quarters his getaway suite, escaping to it whenever he and Lister were sick of each other.

She found the hologram wrapped in his blue robe, laying on the couch. She shifted his long legs so she could sit at the other end, and let them rest on her lap.

Kochanski and Rimmer had unexpectedly developed an easy, casual friendship. She knew it bothered Lister, though she could never figure out why. She had a difficult time believing Lister actually thought anything sexual was going on between the two.

“I don’t know when to stop,” Rimmer quietly admitted. “I always have to go a step further. Get the last word in. One up everyone. Push everyone right to the edge, and then shove them over.”

“You’re both adults, supposedly. You both need to learn how to let things go.”

“He once told me that he’s the one who thinks most fondly of me, after saying he considered me a git, not a friend.”

“I’m sure he was just being cavalier.”

“Yes, it’s the first thing on his CV,” Rimmer said moodily. “It’s just very hard to swallow the idea that the person who thinks the most of you also thinks the least of you.”

“What about you?” She asked. “How do you honestly feel about Dave?”

Rimmer was silent for a very long time. Long enough where Kochanski thought he was going to ignore the question entirely. Finally, he let out a deep, long sigh.

“He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother, and I have three of them. I love him.” Judging by his expression, it physically pained him to admit it. “But there’s this _thing_ in between us, this wall that keeps us getting too close. I don’t know what it is or why it’s there. This self-sabotage. My brain thinks things are going just a bit too well and I suddenly have to do something or say something to remind everyone what a worthless bastard I am. Or Lister will be so kind and so caring, and just when I think it’s safe, when I think he’s somehow seen past what a mess I am, one word will make me realize what an idiot I was for believing that in the first place.”

“You’ll find your way back to each other eventually,” she said. “All you have is each other.”

There was something in Kochanski’s voice that made Rimmer look at her, really look at her. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“I can’t stay here, Arnold.”

“You can’t go. Where would you go?”

“You have no idea what this is like. Living with shadows like this. It’s not just Dave. Did you know that on my Red Dwarf, the Cat was my best friend?” Rimmer blinked.

“The Cat?”

“I found him and fed him and played with him on my Red Dwarf. Not Dave. Dave couldn’t. Sometimes he’d snuggled up to sleep with me and I’d pet his perfect coif, listening to him purr until we both fell asleep. I see this Cat and he sees a stranger. A stranger with tits.”

Rimmer had never thought about Kochanski’s relationship with the other crew members before. The only one she usually talked about was Lister.

“And Kryten. I rebuilt Kryten almost from scratch, with my bare hands. We protected each other. Do you know how hurtful it was to have this Kryten hate me so much? We’ve gotten past that now, but it was devastating to have the eyes of someone I’d delicately rewired into his head, someone who had saved my life more times than I can count, look at me with such distain.”

Kochanski laid down next to Rimmer, resting her head and palm on his chest.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t seem like a ghost to me.”

“The irony,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know where my home is anymore. But it isn’t here.”

 

Kochanski had been loading provisions onto Blue Midget for weeks. Small things here and there to keep from drawing attention. She was desperately worried that Kryten would notice supplies missing, throwing a kink in all her plans. He was so loyal to Lister, he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut.

She headed quietly down the corridor with a box in her hand, having only another 90 minutes before Kryten’s down time was up. Heading up the loading ramp, she stopped in the Midget’s hold section when she spotted the Cat, napping on top of one of the containers. He opened an eye and grinned.

“Hey, bud-babe. Making a nice little nest here.”

“What are you doing here? Shoo!”

He yawned and brushed some invisible lint off his immaculate jacket, unimpressed with her order.

“Please, don’t say anything about this, Cat.” He raised his perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Say anything about what? You think I don’t have a million hideaways on this ship? You and the rest of the monkeys only have one, each more obvious than the next. But far be it from me to ruin your amateur cat-and-mouse games.”

It suddenly struck her how obvious their behavior must seem to observers.

“Do you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I’m leaving?”

“Babe, I’ve known it long before you have. I smelled it on you ever since you got here. You smell like flight.”

“You never said anything.” He shrugged.

“I figured that was your business.”

The Cat was often judgmental about human behavior, but he was rarely surprised by it. It did come as something of a surprise when she walked over and hugged him. Her small fingers found the back of his ears, stroking gently. He shivered and purred, never having anyone do that for him before.

“I wish we could have gotten to know each other better, Cat.”

 

Kochanski was sitting in the cockpit, hand resting on the thruster while skimming the terminal readout for one last system check. She should have been paying more attention to the readings, but her mind couldn’t focus.

This wasn’t how she wanted to leave, stealing away in the night. She didn’t want to leave upset, without saying goodbye. But she knew if she didn’t leave now, she never would.

Her video comm switched on, displaying Rimmer’s face.

“Kris, please don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please don’t leave.” _Dammit._

“I’m glad we met, Arnold. You’ve been a good friend. I’ll miss you.” Rimmer cursed and kicked something out of view.

“He needs you!”

“What am I supposed to do?” she snapped. She almost said, “I’m not his mother,” but then, that wasn’t quite true. “He doesn’t need me, Arnold. He has you.”

“Are you insane?” Rimmer shrieked. Kochanski knew this was bad timing, but things were quickly spiraling out of control. Out of the cockpit window she could see Kryten waddling into the shuttle bay. They made eye contact. He looked surprised.

“Smeg in hell,” she said. Kryten waved his arms frantically. This wasn’t how she wanted to leave, but it was now or never. She released the docking clamps and pulled back the throttle, sending Blue Midget hurtling out of Red Dwarf’s shuttle bay.

 

Rimmer ran down the gantry way as fast as his legs would carry him, ignoring the throbbing pain under his ribs and the stabbing pain behind his eyes. He fought through the shortness of breath by reminding himself he didn’t need to breathe.

When he got to the cargo bay, Kryten was standing there, stupidly looking at the empty dock as the hull doors closed behind the Midget. The mechanoid turned to look at the shaking hologram, wide blue eyes searching for an explanation.

“What’s going on?” The pair turned to see Lister, still half drunk, leaning against the entry way frame. Rimmer and Kryten looked at each other, then back at Lister.

“Kris,” Rimmer said.

“She was sucked out of the airlock!” Kryten interrupted. Rimmer stared incredulously at him.

“What?” Lister said.

“There… there was something wrong with the wiring in the control panel,” Kryten quickly said. “She… she was repairing it and… and, and, and the door mechanism tripped. She, she, she was sucked out with Blue Midget.” Rimmer’s mouth hung open. He looked at Lister who was properly panicking now.

“We’ve got to go get her! Get into Starbug, we’ve got to get her!”

“Lister, are you mad? There’s no way she’d survive that,” Rimmer said, surprised that he found himself corroborating Kryten’s story. He was so overwhelmed by what just happened, he didn’t know what else to do.

“Shut the smeg up, Rimmer,” Lister snapped. “She’s got to be okay,” he said, running towards Starbug. Rimmer instinctively grabbed his elbow, yanking him back. When Rimmer thought he couldn’t be more surprised, he was proven wrong when Lister’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him spiraling to the floor.

Every childhood instinct kicked in and Rimmer cowered on the floor, throwing his shaking hands up to fend off his assailant.

“Shit, Rimmer,” Lister said, caught between wanting to help him back up and run to Starbug. Even pissed and in shock, he knew there was no way to save Kochanski from the cold vacuum of space. He balled his fists on his head, his face crumpling. “Fuck!” he screamed, kicking a box of tools across the bay. Lister finally broke down into tears, dropping to his hands and knees, pounding his fists on the metal deck.

His whole body wracked with sobs while Kryten’s negadrive was dangerously overheating with guilt. Tentative hands reached out to stroke Lister’s back. Rimmer sat next to Lister, who turned around and grabbed the hologram in a fierce hug, crying into his neck. Rimmer held him close, his eyes red and shining.


	2. Kintsugi

Everything on Red Dwarf was falling apart at once, and oddly only the Cat seemed to notice. Lister was inconsolable, and hadn’t been sober for a single second since Kochanski “died.” Cat could smell Kryten’s negadrive cooking inside of him, and Lister was in no state to help repair it. Rimmer was wound so tight that his projection was glitching out more than it wasn’t. Holly was gone, and no one was driving.

The Cat had emotional instincts that would be surprising to a human. The reason he rarely divulged his nuggets of wisdom was one, he thought they were so obvious in the first place that he didn’t think they needed to be spelled out, and two, most of the time he just couldn’t be bothered.

With everyone drifting apart and falling to pieces, he realized now was the time for an intervention of cat wisdom.

“Feed me,” he demanded as he strolled into Lister’s bunkroom. The man was wrapped in his Titan Hilton blanket like a sad burrito on Rimmer’s bunk, not having the energy or coordination to get into his own. The hologram wasn’t around to complain.

“Smeg off, Cat,” he said. “You know how to use the dispensers.”

“The dispensers aren’t working because you’re not fixing them. Now that the Head is gone, you’re the one who has to maintain them, remember? And I’m hungry now.”

Lister groaned and got up, grabbing a bowl and a box of Krispies. The Cat sat down as Lister served him begrudgingly.

“The dispensers aren’t the only thing busted around here. Goalpost head and Novelty Condom Head are just about burned out as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Lister said, dropping into the seat next to the Cat, rubbing his unshaven face. The Cat chewed his food noisily.

“Kryten’s on his second spare head, and I’m pretty sure Rimmer’s supposed to be in colour.”

“Where are they?”

“Kryten’s on B-Deck, and Rimmer’s in the captain’s quarters. Personally, I’m enjoying the peace and quiet that comes with them being incapacitated,” he said cooly. Lister groaned again, grabbing his tool belt and headed up towards B-Deck.

The Cat continued eating his lunch. He knew all he had to do was tease out Lister’s nurturing instinct. Lister was a helper. What a sap.

 

Lister found Kryten slumped between two vending machines, acrid black smoke billowing out of the hole where his head should have been.

“Smeg in hell!” Lister said, kneeling down next to the fallen droid, waving smoke away. This was more than he could do with his tool belt. He needed to get Kryten down to the medibay. His dead weight was too much for Lister to carry on his own. He debated for a few minutes before going to find Rimmer.

 

Lister knocked on the door to the captain’s quarters a few times before letting himself in.

“Rimmer?” he called out. “Where the smeg are you?” Lister looked around, finally finding the man sitting on the floor of his washroom, slumped against the basin on the tub, his bathrobe tied loosely around him. Lister kneeled in front of him. “Rimmer?”

He waved his hand in front of the man’s face. Rimmer’s eyes rolled lethargically up at Lister. His face was pale and lax, and he was slightly transparent. Lister reached out to touch his shoulder and his fingers went right through him.

“Can you move?”

Rimmer blinked slowly.

“Is that a no? Blink once for no, twice for yes. Can you move?”

Rimmer blinked once, struggling to open his eyes again. Lister could see his light bee hovering inside him, the lights along its belly yellow and fading. He took hold of the bee, which was burning hot in his hand. He debated whether or not to manually shut off the bee, worried it might not turn on again. Rimmer’s eyes slipped shut, and Lister pushed the switch at the top.

 

Down in the medibay, Lister hooked Rimmer’s bee up to a cable lead, initiating a safe mode start up through the computer terminal. The data running along the screen was uniform for a while before patches of garbled nonsense started appearing. Lister felt his insides go cold. He recognized the corruption. Near the top of Rimmer’s long list of fears; an electronic aneurysm.

“God dammit, Rimmer, don’t do this to me now. Not now.” Lister opened up the diagnostic programme, looking for the source. It was hard to find just one.

Rimmer and Kryten had always been vigilant about monitoring Rimmer’s T-Count, though the hologram was less than vigilant about keeping it within range. It had been even harder after he’d contracted a holovirus from the doomed crew of the Enlightenment. Holly had managed to insert a repair programme, at the cost of his own life, but Rimmer’s system was severely compromised.

A healthy T-Count for a hologram ran between 80 and 100T. At its lowest, Rimmer’s count consistently hovered around 105-107. There were enormous spikes in the range of 125-130 within the past few days. The last spike hit 190 before plunging to 40, where it now hovered.

Lister started the computer’s auto repair system, but he was certain it was going to take more than a little custom intervention to fix the problem, and he needed Kryten for that.

He managed to coerce the Cat into helping drag Kryten’s body up to the medibay, heaving it onto the bed next to Rimmer’s. The hologram’s projection had been reactivated, but he was still transparent, unconscious, and now black and white.

The Cat perched on top of one of the counter tops while Lister opened Kryten’s chassis to pull out the droid’s negadrive. He connected the box up to a free terminal, and while the computer drained Kryten’s guilt files, Lister grabbed a spare head from one of the supply cupboards.

Lister fought to maintain the autopilot numbness as he worked, but the sharp concern for his friends kept poking through. He’d let Krissy down, he wasn’t going to let Kryten and Rimmer down too.

After securing Kryten’s head back into his neck socket, Lister checked on Rimmer. He was no longer transparent, but he was still black and white and soft light.

“All in all this week has been kind of a bummer,” Cat said. Lister remembered Kryten saying something along those lines once. Everything worked out in the end, but he knew there wouldn’t be any miracle magic tricks that would bring Kochanski back.

Lister reactivated Kryten, watching carefully in case anything started smoking or exploding. The mechanoid opened his eyes, blinking a few times, before focusing on Lister.

“Are you okay, Kryten?”

“I believe so, Mr. Lister, sir,” he said, flexing his fingers and checking his motor control. “What happened?”

“You had a guilt overload.”

“Ah,” he said, reviewing his short term memory files. His expression sagged and he bowed his head, looking away from Lister. “I see.” Lister rested a hand on his pauldron.

“It’s about Kris, isn’t it?” Kryten peeked up at Lister with a queasy expression.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kryten.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, wringing his hands together.

“Can you help me with Rimmer?”

Kryten took advantage of the emotional distraction, reviewing the auto repair diagnostics. The mechanoid frowned and fussed, but worked quietly to patch up the software.

They watched Rimmer’s projection turn completely red, then green, then blue, before finally coalescing back into full colour. Lister came up to Rimmer's side as he opened his eyes. They were dull and unfocused.

“Rimmer?” His eyes sought Lister’s voice, but couldn’t seem to locate his face.

“I'm afraid Mr. Rimmer’s vision has been impaired, sir.”

“Can he hear us?”

“I believe so.”

“You got yourself in a fix, mate,” Lister said. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. You’ll be back to your insufferable self in no time.” Lister returned to Kryten, trying to understand the information on the screen. “So what’s the damage? It can be repaired, right?” Kryten frowned.

“There was a massive data bleed. More than 80% of his motor skills have been completely corrupted.”

“So, what, he’s paralyzed?”

“For the moment. I’ll have to manually rewrite the scripts for his physical functions. It will take time, but it can be done.”

“What about upstairs?”

“That’s a little more complicated, sir. A hologram’s personality and mental faculties are too nuanced for a computer programme to replicate, which is why it relies on the personality disks of crew members. To create a fully artificial AI, like Holly, takes a massive amount of computing power, too much for hologramatic software to cope with.” Lister resisted going cross eyed at the explanation.

“You’re beating around the bush with this technobabble. What’s the score with Rimmer’s damage?”

“Any recovery Mr. Rimmer makes will rely on his ability to cope with them. They cannot be repaired externally.”

“Smeg.”

 

It took Kryten three days to reconstruct Rimmer’s physical functions. He was shaky and uncoordinated while his software acclimated itself to the new scripts. It was like walking around in someone else’s body, a disconcerting feeling.

It was enormously draining for Rimmer to maintain hard light, and Lister was practically carrying him by the time they reached their sleeping quarters. As soon as Rimmer dropped himself into his bunk, he switched back to soft light.

Lister pulled up a chair next to the bed.

“Listen, man,” he said, sighing and rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a fuck up. I don’t want us to fight anymore.”

He bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. The last thing he told Kochanski before she died was to go fuck Rimmer. The last thing he said to Rimmer before his aneurysm was to call him Mr. Gazpacho. Technically it was telling him to smeg off before punching him in the face, which wasn’t much better. God, he wanted a drink.

Rimmer switched back to hard light just long enough for a trembling hand reached forward, resting on Lister’s knee. Rimmer tried to speak, getting as far as opening his mouth and moving his tongue around, but not much else. Lister took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, man. Just get some rest.”

 

Rimmer slept a lot the next few days. Kryten reassured Lister that this was normal while the repair programme worked in the background. He was slowly recovering his speech, though his phrases were pretty limited to, “five more minutes,” before sleeping for another five hours.

When Rimmer was awake, he was something of a rollercoaster for Lister to handle. Lister was worried that the aneurysm was going to deaden Rimmer’s personality, like some kind of zombified vegetable. It turned out to be the opposite, and if anything Rimmer was even more Rimmeresque. Rimmer squared.

Everything was intensified. When he was feeling ratty, he was _ratty_. When he was depressed, he was inconsolable. When he was angry, he was apoplectic. When he was happy, which was rare, he was in hysterics. It was all very jarring.

Lister figured it would be best to let the hologram rest in peace while he recovered, so the Scouser took to sleeping in different quarters.

It was about 2 am when Lister found himself laying awake in bed, trying to fight off one of his nagging feelings. He finished the last of his cigarette while debating whether or not to check up on the hologram. A peek in their shared quarters and he could go to sleep.

The door slid open and he listened quietly. Hearing nothing but the low hum of the ship’s systems, he tiptoed inside. In the dim illumination of various LEDs, Lister could see Rimmer’s silhouette curled up in the bottom bunk.

He pulled up a chair and thought about lighting another cigarette. There was a time where he wouldn’t have thought about it, he would have just done it. Now, he thought it might be slightly discourteous to the man he was checking in on.

Lister suddenly felt like he was visiting a patient in a hospital, and all at once the room seemed ten times too small. He got up to leave when Rimmer started stirring in his sleep.

It started with the sharp intake of breath and a murmur of a protest slurred into his pillow. Lister stepped closer, kneeling down next to the bunk. Rimmer jerked away from an invisible tormenter, protesting louder now.

Lister sighed. He’d asked Rimmer if the nightmares were recurring after finding him pale and bleary eyed several mornings in a row. Rimmer had insisted they were a thing of the past and everything was “tickity boo.” Rimmer only used the phrase “tickity boo” when he was lying.

He’d learned that the best way to wake Rimmer from his nightmares was not to loom over him and shake him awake, but to approach low, and try to look non-threatening.

“Rimmer,” he said in an even voice, not shouting. “Rimmer, man. Wake up.” Lister flicked on the bunk’s low nightlight. “Rimmer.”

Rimmer’s eyes opened and Lister watched his face run through that familiar gradient of panic, disorientation, and realization. In the dim light, his eyes looked black, like a forest under a new moon. They focused on Lister and narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he groaned, rubbing his face with his long pale hands.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Is that against the law now? Space Corps Directive 1408; no having dreams that aren’t sunny and lovely?” Rimmer snapped.

Lister furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. There were so many different ways Rimmer needed to be handled, the man ought to come with a handbook. If it had been during the day, and both of them were a little more cognizant, Lister would have made a return serve and the pair could have batted a few wind ups back and forth easily.

But at the moment, Rimmer wasn’t playing. He was shaken and vulnerable, feeling threatened and lashing out. Sometimes Lister felt like he was taking care of a feral cat.

“Sorry, man. I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Lister said, getting up to leave.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Rimmer said quickly. Lister paused at the door. That was a new one. He turned around and Rimmer sat up in his bunk. “I’m sorry,” he said again. Lister took a seat next to him on the bunk and they sat in silence for a while. “I don’t mean to be like this.”

“I know, man.” A pause. “Why didn’t you tell me the nightmares were coming back?”

“Why would I?” Something about that question sent a little stab into Lister’s heart. Rimmer shrugged. “And also, I guess I didn’t mention it because I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to come back here.”

“What?” Lister stared. “Rimmer, I didn’t leave because of you. I didn’t even leave, I’m just down the corridor.”  

“Fine,” he said, closing up again.

“No, wait, Rimmer, don’t do that. Is that what you think? That I left because of you?”

“Oh, come on Lister. You think I don’t notice how you make yourself scarce when I’m not Chipper Charlie? You think I can’t tell when you’re exhausted being around me?”

“It’s not like that,” Lister protested. “I just never know what you want from me. I never know if you want space or company or what because you don’t talk to me. You just sulk and wind yourself up tighter and tighter.”

Rimmer’s expression was pinched as he glared at the ground.

“You’re doing it right now! Rimmer, it’s okay to talk to me. I’m not trying to collect ammunition to lob at you later.”

Rimmer finally looked at Lister, suspicious and exhausted in equal measure. He looked down at the pale hands folded on his bony knees.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asked in a stiff voice.

“Yeah,” Lister said without hesitation. He hopped up in the top bunk and settled in. “We can talk more in the morning, if you want. I’d like us to, anyway.”

“Alright,” he said, and flicked off the bunk light.

 

Lister woke up to find himself alone in the bunkroom.

He hunted around Rimmer’s usual haunts before finally finding him in the observation dome. Lister climbed the steps onto the platform where Rimmer was standing, looking at a dark sky. There were so little stars anymore. They were so far from home.

“I wish you didn’t feel like you always have to run away,” Lister said quietly.

“So do I.” Lister’s hand slipped into Rimmer’s, who squeezed it tightly.

“I don’t want to lose you again, Rimmer.” The hologram turned to look at Lister. “We’re all that we have.”

Rimmer rested his head on Lister’s shoulder as he was pulled into a hug. Lister kissed Rimmer’s cheek. Rimmer turned his head and brushed his lips against Lister’s. An electric thrill went through both of their cores. Rimmer was brave enough to hold Lister’s gaze for only a moment before turning away to leave.

Lister pulled him back and returned the gentle kiss.

“I guess this is something to think about,” Rimmer said.


	3. Shibui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a dream depicting sexual assault. Please be advised if you are in any way triggered by such themes.

Lister was feeling antsy. All of his relationships moved along pretty quickly, sometimes moving to a physical stage before either of them knew each other’s last names. It was all a bit start and stop with Rimmer, and he was trying to be patient.

Lister was a very tactile person, and Rimmer was a man who valued his personal space. The problem was, as Lister had pointed out to him, that Rimmer didn’t know how to just say what he wanted. Rimmer was very happy to receive physical affection right up to the point where he wasn’t, and would get tense and uncomfortable. The hologram also seemed to have great difficulty initiating any kind of physicality if he wanted it, and instead relied on hovering conspicuously around Lister until he finally picked up the hints.

Sometimes Rimmer was more like a cat than the Cat was.

It was baffling to Lister how a man like Rimmer could be so forceful and direct about most of the things he wanted in life, but was so skittish and timid when it came to matters of affection.

It didn’t help that they were both a bit of a wreck at the moment. Emotions were very close to the surface, nerves were frayed, patience was short, but they were both trying.

Rimmer sat at the table in their bunkroom trying to drink a cup of tea. Somehow the coordination of trying to bring the cup in his shaking hand to his lips presented something of a challenge. Lister sat behind him in his bunk, trying not to grimace, trying not to notice so as not to embarrass him.

On the third attempt, succeeding in only spilling hot tea on his shirt and trousers, Lister sensed the spike in tension and hopped down from the bunk to grab the cup before Rimmer hurled it across the room. Rimmer put his head down on the table, his hands knotted in his hair. He held his breath and started counting.

Lister sat next to him, rubbing his neck and back.

“Come on, breathe,” he said gently in his ear. Rimmer let out a shaky breath, inhaling quickly and holding it again. “Breathe,” Lister encouraged again. Rimmer exhaled… one, two, three, four, five. Inhaled… one, two, three, four, five. “It’s okay,” Lister said, kissing the back of his neck.

Lister worked the muscles in Rimmer’s back, smoothing them out, running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp until the hologram was loose putty in his hands. Rimmer sat up and faced Lister with a warm, calm expression. Lister leaned forward bringing his lips to Rimmer’s, kissing him lightly while brushing his fingertips along his jaw, lingering on the jagged scar.

He could feel the hologram shiver, sending warm thrills between his legs. Lister took one of Rimmer’s hands, brushing his fingers along his lips, dipping the tip of each one inside his mouth, giving them a light sweep of his tongue. He watched Rimmer swallow thickly, his own tongue darting out in that nervous way of his.

Lister took all of Rimmer’s middle finger in his mouth, gliding it in and out along the slick insides of his lips, giving it a few firm sucks. He could see the heat building in Rimmer’s eyes, in the flush of his face, and the swelling in his trousers.

Lister kissed Rimmer again, this time Rimmer all too eager to let Lister’s tongue sink into his mouth. Lister crawled into Rimmer’s lap, straddling his erection, encouraged by the low growl in Rimmer’s throat when he rocked his hips against it.

When Rimmer was squirming enough under Lister’s ministrations, Lister pulled the hologram with him into the bottom bunk, settling himself comfortably between his long legs. Their kissing became breathless as their restricted erections ground against each other.

Lister began unbuttoning Rimmer’s tunic, kissing down his neck. He tugged the bottom of the stupid polo neck he wore underneath out of his trousers to run his hand along his stomach. Why did he have to wear so many layers of clothing?

Lister was so distracted with his arousal and exhilaration by the fact that they were _finally_ moving things along that he didn’t notice Rimmer start to tense up again. When his fingers slipped between the band of Rimmer’s trousers, he assumed the hitch in Rimmer’s breath was excitement.

Rimmer suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Lister’s touch, which had been so pleasant a second ago, now felt too close. In the small bunk with Lister’s weight pinning him down, Rimmer started feeling very claustrophobic. When Lister started working the fastens on trousers, he started to get anxious.

“Wait, wait,” thought he said out loud. Lister didn’t seem to hear him. The sound of the zip on Lister’s trousers triggered something in Rimmer that sent him into a full blown panic. As soon as Lister’s hand reached down to grasp his erection, Rimmer found himself shouting. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

He flailed around, yanking Lister’s hands away from him, and switched to soft light. Rimmer was out of the bunk and out of the room before Lister could process what happened. Startled, confused, and painfully horny, Lister slammed his head into the now empty pillow, groaning in frustration.

 

When Lister had sorted himself out, he went off to find Rimmer. He was back in the captain’s quarters, vigorously polishing a pair of boots you could already see infinity in. Lister hovered outside the threshold.

“Can I come in?” he asked. Rimmer gave a noncommittal grunt without looking up from his boots. Lister sat across from him, watching him carefully. “I’m sorry if I’m moving too fast for you. It’s just, your body drives me wild,” he said with a cheeky grin. When the comment failed to illicit any response from the hologram, Lister sighed. “Rimmer, can you please just look at me?”

Rimmer paused his polishing, which Lister realized was the most he was probably going to get out of the man at the moment.

“I’m getting that you’re not really ready to ehm… consummate this relationship. And that’s okay.”

“Is that what this is?” Rimmer asked, finally looking up at him. “Are we in a relationship? Am I your _boyfriend_ ,” he asked with petulant emphasis. “What are we actually doing?”

Lister was trying desperately to understand where Rimmer was coming from. Why did Rimmer keep running away from what he wanted? It wasn’t Lister’s imagination. _Rimmer_ kissed _him_ in the observation dome, and he seemed to enjoy the occasional snuggle and petting session.

Lister was perfectly content to play everything by ear and see where things went, but Rimmer seemed to need a clear and specific mission plan, preferably with emergency escape instructions.

“Rimmer, we’ve been practically married for the last decade. You helped me birth my children, for god’s sake.” Rimmer squirmed at the memory, pulling a face.

“Don’t remind me.”

“My point is, you’re still a smeghead and I’m still a bum. Does having sex really change anything very much?”

“I just don’t want to be buggered because it’s convenient,” Rimmer snapped. Lister rubbed his face in exasperation.

“It’s not like that. I don’t see you as a hole to fill.”

Rimmer turned ashy and queasy. God, Lister thought. That’s what this is about. He may not have been consciously aware of it, but Rimmer’s first day in the Tank haunted his dreams every night.

After a great deal of inner torment and glitching software, with Rimmer’s permission, Kryten and Kochanski buried the memory of Rimmer’s brutal assault in a password protected file, where his conscious mind couldn’t access.

Problem not exactly solved, as Rimmer was still suffering the hypervigilance and depression that the trauma raked across his brain, despite the repression.

The only thing Rimmer ever wanted was to fit in somewhere. Preferably in a high social class with lots of port and cigars, but anywhere would do. He needed to be needed. Lister realized it wasn’t going to be as easy as “we’ve known each other for ten years, we’re open to the idea, let’s just fuck already.” He was going to have to woo him.

Rather than finding the task daunting, Lister found the notion a little exciting.

“You want to catch a film?” Rimmer saw through the ruse immediately.

“Are you asking me out on a date,” the question dripped with jaundiced cynicism.

“Yeah.”

 

Lister considered that it might have been a mistake to let Rimmer pick the movie. It was something called Victory South, a fictional retelling of the American Civil War where the South win. Lister had only a very basic understanding of history, especially ancient history, but he was pretty sure the beef in that war was the South wanted to own dark people as property, and everyone else thought that idea was a bit shit.

“What the smeg would make you want to watch something like this?” Lister asked as they headed into the cinema. Rimmer shrugged.

“It’s just sort of a dystopian “what-if” story. What if the worst happened, and how would an implausible group of misfit protagonists band together to fight a nation ruled by the Confederacy. It’s a classic underdog tale, Listy.”

Lister was relieved that, despite the misleading title, the film wasn’t a pro-slavery propaganda film. It still wasn’t very good though. While the busty blonde heroine with no personality rallied the troops with a motivational speech, Lister’s mind drifted to more interesting thoughts.

He kept taking peeks at Rimmer, whose eyes remained glued to the screen. Lister sneakily snaked his arm around Rimmer’s shoulder, encouraged when it wasn’t batted away, but slightly put out when it wasn’t acknowledged either.

His thumb ghosted along the side of Rimmer’s neck and he leaned his head on Rimmer’s other shoulder. Rimmer rested his head against Lister’s, settling into the embrace. Lister wanted to rest his free hand on Rimmer’s thigh. Well, what he really wanted to do was get down on his knees and suck the man off here in the cinema. But he didn’t push it.

 

“That was pretty interesting,” Lister lied as they exited the cinema. Rimmer shook his head.

“I can’t believe they killed Bimbo.”

“I can’t believe they actually named her that.”

“It was an affectionate nickname,” Rimmer defended.

As the pair headed towards Parrot’s for dinner Lister said, “I didn’t bring a tie, they might not serve us.”

“Oh shut up.”

Once the swimming rama and inky squid soup had been finished, Lister enduring a low alcohol white wine, barely, he rested his hand on top of Rimmer’s and leaned forward to give the man a peck, pleased when it was reciprocated. The pair headed hand in hand back to the captain’s quarters, snuggling on the couch.

Things were getting more interesting when Rimmer drew Lister into a deep kiss, his long arms wrapping tightly around him. The hologram’s lips, tongue, and teeth grazed against the side of Lister’s neck. Lister felt warm and happy until his eyes fell upon a book on Rimmer’s coffee table.

Learn Japanese by Dr. P. Brewis. That book had belonged to Kochanski.

Rimmer sensed something hand changed and pulled away. He followed Lister’s gaze.

“Are you thinking of her?” he asked quietly. Suddenly the two felt cold and guilty, and readjusted themselves on the couch, sitting separately.

“I just wish I could have been better to her.” They were quiet for a while before Lister said in a voice threatening to crack, “you were there when… when it happened. Did she say anything?”

“No,” Rimmer lied.

“Was it quick?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still think of Nirvanah?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save her. I’m glad you got to be with her at the end.”

Rimmer felt sick with guilt. He wanted to tell Lister that Kochanski was still alive, out there somewhere. But he wasn’t sure that would be better. He wasn’t sure what would happen. Would he take Starbug and go find her? Try to convince her to come back to Red Dwarf? Clearly Kochanski didn’t want to be found.

“Do you want to stay, or…?” Rimmer trailed off.

“You don’t mind?”

Rimmer stood and took Lister’s hand. In the bedroom Lister stripped down to his long johns and Rimmer changed into his pyjamas. They climbed into the large bed, huddling close, swiftly carried away in the arms of Morpheus.

 

Rimmer couldn’t breathe. He felt like a raging fire was being stoked in his chest, and his shaky legs would collapse under him at any second as he ran down the grey steel corridors. He turned to see if his pursuers were still behind him, and was startled when he was grabbed from the front.

The hooded figures took hold of his arms, dragging him away, pulling off his clothes. As he tried to scream for help, a hard metal ring was forced into his mouth and strapped around his head, keeping his jaw open.

Impossibly strong hands forced him to the ground, and he heard the clicking of the hooves approach from behind. Rimmer knew that sound, but he still turned his head, straining to see the it. His hideous, putrid self loathing made flesh.

Rimmer watched in horror as the creature stood over him, a gnarled, cartilage ribbed phallus pushing out of its prepuce, like a randy horse out of some HR Giger nightmare.

His heart attempting to leap out of his throat, Rimmer tried to jerk away from the arms holding him down, succeeding only in grinding his ribs against the hard metal deck plates. Giant hands like sweating skin wrapped around jagged bone grabbed his shoulders, claws sinking into the soft flesh, Rimmer screamed and gurgled around the metal ring, saliva dribbling down his chin as the creature mounted him.

Hot pain cut through him as he was opened and invaded, every muscle in his body was tensed to the point of snapping. A vicious thrust of the creatures hips sent nauseating stabs of agony through his abdomen. Rimmer wanted the creature to sink its fangs into his throat, tearing out his jugular, take his head in its hands and snap his neck, anything to stop the pain coursing through his centre like a tornado of fire.

Lister grabbed hold of Rimmer’s flailing arms, trying to avoid a punch in the eye.

“Rimmer, for smeg’s sake, wake up!” He shook the man, trying to force him back to consciousness. This was usually the worst way of waking the man, but gentle coaxing had not brought him out of his night terror.

Rimmer’s eyes snapped open, and his knee came up to connect with Lister’s stomach. Lister rolled away, wheezing while Rimmer clawed out of bed, huddling in the corner of the room.

When Lister surfaced, groaning and holding his aching stomach, he made his way to the panicked, sobbing man. Rimmer’s voice became distorted in a kind of digital echo, and the colour of his silk pyjamas flashed red and blue like a strobe.

“Rimmer, you’ve got to calm down, it’s okay.” Lister reached out a cautious hand when Rimmer’s projection settled on hard light, but he was disturbed to be able to see large pixels as the projection resolution dropped. Lister inched closer, drawing Rimmer away from the wall into his arms. Static prickled Lister’s skin. He made Rimmer look at him, coaching him to breathe.

When Rimmer finally calmed down he climbed shakily back into bed, curling into a ball and staring into space. Lister sat beside him, trying to bring his racing heartbeat back down to normal. He pulled Rimmer into his lap, stroking his hair.

Lister thought about trying to find Kryten, but Rimmer’s projection slowly returned to normal after a while, and he let Rimmer fall back asleep in his arms.

 

The next morning, no amount of coaxing or bribing would get Rimmer out of bed. He barely moved, he barely spoke, and what he did say seemed to physically and mentally exhaust him. Lister sat next to him in bed, trying not to fuss.

“Lister,” Rimmer finally said with great effort. “I’m not what you need, and I can’t be what you want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t fix me, I can’t give you a normal relationship. I can only give you a neurotic mess to worry about.”

“Rimmer, you already do that anyway. This doesn’t change anything.” Rimmer snorted. “You think after ten years I don’t know what I’m getting into here?” Lister scooted down and lay next to Rimmer so they were eye to eye. “Listen man. Do you want me, even though I’m a slob, and I’m lazy, and I’m a bum?”

Lister watched a fascinating spectrum of emotions flicker across Rimmer’s face, enough where he was honestly not sure how Rimmer was going to answer. Finally he breathed, “yes.” Listed smiled.

“You’re stuck with me, mate.”

“Fine,” he said, too tired for a debate. “Now will you go the smeg away so I can sleep?”

Lister kissed him and left him alone to rest.

 

Lister found himself standing outside Kochanski’s quarters with her Japanese language paperback in his hand. He didn’t know why he felt shaky, but took a few steadying breaths before going in. His heart swelled as his brain raced through all the memories attached to everything in the room. He came in here for a specific item, but he couldn’t help lingering.

He laid down on her pillow, breathing in the scent, and didn’t fight the tears that soaked into the fabric.

Lister took the paperback and put it on the shelf, next to her Jane Austin and advanced astronavigation books. He finally found what he was looking for and took it with him as he left.

Lister placed the framed photograph of Kochanski against the granite memorial stone in one of the smaller observation domes.

“I’m sorry, Kris. I’m sorry we couldn’t bring you home.”

 

As Rimmer lay in bed, he turned Nirvanah’s golden light bee over in his hand. The woman who was willing to die for him. The woman he couldn’t save.

_“Listen to me, mister. Underneath all that neurotic mess is someone nice trying to get out. Someone who deserves a chance to grow. So you won’t give up, okay?”_

Nirvanah and Lister seemed to see something in Rimmer that he couldn’t.

He’d always said he wanted people to see that he wasn’t such a bad old stick once you got to know him. But no one ever did, and Rimmer was convinced that was because underneath there really wasn’t anything else. Nothing worth fighting through his unpleasant exterior for, nothing worth saving.

Nirvanah was willing to give up her life to prove him wrong.

He brought her bee to his lips, kissing it reverently. Rimmer vowed to try and be worthy of Lister’s affection.

 

When Lister finally returned to Rimmer’s quarters hours later, he found the hologram waiting anxiously for him. He struggled to his feet with some difficulty. Concern gnawed at the pit of Lister’s stomach when he saw Rimmer aided with the support of a cane. Was he getting worse?

Rather than letting Rimmer hobble precariously across the room, Lister came to him. Rimmer rest his hand on his shoulder, possibly for support.

“I want to try,” he said. He pulled Lister in the direction of the bedroom, and Lister followed without resistance.

Sitting next to each other on the bed, Rimmer leaned forward barely brushing his lips over Lister’s, pressing a little firmer with each kiss. Lister followed his lead, occasionally slipping his tongue between them.

Rimmer’s unsteady hands fumbled with Lister’s clothes, and when Lister sensed him getting frustrated with his lack of coordination, he pulled away, stroking the side of his face.

“It’s okay,” he said, kissing Rimmer’s hand. “Just relax.”

Lister pulled his shirt off and helped Rimmer shrug off his robe and top. Lister had always been slightly baffled and jealous of Rimmer’s lean and sculpted physique. How the hell does a chicken soup repairman get arms like that?

He laid Rimmer down on the bed, chasing after is mouth, running his broad hand across his chest and stomach. Lister’s mouth grazed across Rimmer’s collarbone, to his shoulder, his tongue laving over the raised scars.

Lister straddled Rimmer’s hips, gyrating slowly, massaging Rimmer’s growing erection. Rimmer’s eyes rolled back behind his closed lids as a groan escaped his throat. His breathing became deep and slow as Lister’s hands moved across his chest and shoulders, kneading the tension out of his muscles.

He bent his head, trailing his lips down Rimmer’s sternum, tongue flickering out here and there, finally dipping into his navel. Lister smiled as Rimmer squirmed. Lister buried his snout against the tented fabric between Rimmer’s legs, mouthing against the aching organ, teasing Rimmer until his hands were balled into fists against the bed, and his hips giving barely restrained jerks urging Lister on.

“Is this what you want?” Lister growled.

“Yes,” Rimmer gasped. “Please… please.”

Lister pulled Rimmer’s clothes away from his narrow hips, Rimmer whimpering as Lister captured his cock in a firm grip, giving him one slow pump. He brought his lips to the base, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin above his sack before ghosting along the throbbing vein to meet the underside of his head. His tongue flickered under the glans and along the leaking opening until Rimmer was close to tears.

He wrapped his lips around the tip of the head, giving it little sucks, popping it in and out of his mouth, his hands keeping Rimmer’s hips from jerking up for relief.

“God, Lister, please,” he begged.

He finally took pity on the writhing man, pulling his throbbing organ into his mouth, his lips giving long slow tugs. Lister enjoyed the feeling of Rimmer struggling under the restraint of his hands. He sucked down Rimmer’s cock until the head touched the back of his throat, swallowing around it rapidly until Rimmer came with a forceful shudder, his energy being pulled from his core with his ejaculation.

Lister returned to Rimmer’s side, kissing the corner of his mouth as the hologram fought to recover his breath. Lister dotted his skin with little kisses here and there, his hand rubbing slow circles along his stomach. His hand moved down his inner thigh, between his cheeks, his fingertip brushing against the ring of flesh at their center. Rimmer jerked, but didn’t pull away.

Lister nuzzled Rimmer’s neck, letting his finger brush soft sweeps against his entrance. He kissed his ear and asked in a whisper, “is this okay?” Rimmer nodded, still slightly tense. Lister continued his gentle ministrations as Rimmer started to relax again. He started to apply firmer pressure, finally allowing his finger to penetrate, pushing slowly in and out. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” Rimmer breathed, starting to enjoy Lister’s exploration. Lister’s thumb brushed his perineum as he continued to probe.

When Rimmer was fully relaxed again, Lister leaned over to rummage around in the headboard for the little bottle of lube. He squeezed a liberal amount into his palm and started massaging the slick lubricant over his straining cock. Straddling Rimmer, he kissed the man sweetly. He kissed the H on his forehead, noting the crinkle in his brow and the tension in his face.

“Rimmer, look at me.” Rimmer opened his eyes which reflected an intoxicating mix of lust, anticipation, and a touch of fear. Lister kissed him again. “Do you want this?” Lister brushed the tip of his cock against Rimmer’s entrance, moistening it with the lubricant. Rimmer shivered.

“Yes,” he said.

“We can stop whenever you want,” Lister assured him. “Any time, if it starts to hurt. Just tell me.”

Lister held Rimmer’s gaze as he pushed the tip against the opening, rocking against it with gentle pressure, but not pushing through yet. He waited for Rimmer to start squirming again, his hips tilting towards Lister with needy arousal.

When he thought Rimmer was ready, he slowly pushed forwards, the tip breeching the barrier. Rimmer’s expression tightened and his breath hitched as the head sunk inside of him.

“Are you alright?” Rimmer bit his lip, nodding.

“It’s okay, keep going, please.”

Lister let his length submerge achingly slow, pausing periodically to let Rimmer adjust to his substantial girth. When he’d finally engulfed himself fully, he held Rimmer while the man took slow deep breaths through his nose.

Rimmer’s long arms wrapped around Lister, keeping him close as he brought up his knees. Lister rocked forward with gentle thrusts, watching Rimmer’s expression for any distress. He shook with the restraint, wanting nothing more than to fuck Rimmer into the mattress, but the sedate pace was important.

When Rimmer gasped and moaned loudly, Lister knew he’d found the spot. He angled his thrusts so his head brushed his prostate, hitting it with deadly accuracy every time, until Rimmer was writhing beneath him, his cock swollen and alert again.

Lister picked up the pace of his thrusts, grinding Rimmer’s cock between their flesh until his excitement spilled over his stomach. A few more snaps of his hips and Lister quickly followed.

The pair lay against each other, slick with sweat, breathing heavily. Lister carefully pulled out of Rimmer, rolling off him and laying on his back, catching his breath.

“You okay?” Lister asked again. Rimmer nodded.

“Yeah.”

As the pair started to doze, Rimmer took Lister’s hand, kissing it.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For being patient. For letting me try, no matter how many times it took.”

“You’re worth more than you think you are, Rimmer. Someday you’ll believe that."


End file.
